The Lost Ones
by karrenia
Summary: The SG1 team discover the abandoned homeworld of the Immortals. The only survivor is a 5.000 year old man claiming to be Methos? Is he really and what happens when the pretender meets the real Methos? One is bad, but two?
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and all related, events, concepts, and  
characters belong to their respective creators. They are not mine and  
are not used for profit; no money is from this. They are the property  
of Gekko Films, LTD, MCA Studios, and the Fox Network. They are only  
used for entertainment purposes. You know the drill. Slightly AU, so  
I'm not entirely positive where in series continuity this would fit into, but probably shortly after the  
4th season episode "Hathor".

Disclaimer 2: Highlander: the Series and all related characters,  
events, and concepts belong to Rysher Television, Panzer/Davis  
Productions. The pretend Methos who appears in the story is actually  
in reference to the character that was in the season 5 episode "The  
Messenger".

Note: This is a rather belated combination response to several story  
challenges that were posted on the message board for the Seventh  
Dimension's Fan fiction Highlander Archive. Indicates thoughts

"The Lost Ones" by Karen

Prologue

Peach streaked with Rose.

Those were the first words that came to mind as the last streak of  
sunset washed over the ground where the obelisk crouched squarely in  
the middle of his life track.

Flexing the muscles in his shoulders the man tossed back his long  
black that he wore in a loose tail down his back and looked out over  
the landscape.

He had an excellent vantagepoint stannding atop the summit of the  
tallest hill for kilometers around. Things had been different once;  
the village and its surrounding neighbors had lived in peace. He  
shifted his gaze  
from the ridge to the sky, watching the sun complete its travel down  
to the ocean and disappear. He stuffed his hands into the pockets  
sewn into his gray robes and awaited the arrival of the rest of the  
Immortal Council. The wait seemed longer than it actually was. With  
the sun going down it was impossible to judge the exact time of night  
since the first early warning sings came to his people in the form of  
smoke and fire.

'Murmuring of the priests acting as intermediaries for their Gods;  
The signs of imminent doom are all shouting loud and clear, to be  
seen by anyone possessing the knowledge to do so, or the desire to.'  
He thought with a quick shake of a dark head and a grimace of disgust  
twisting his wide mouth into a sneer.

At that exact second he was distracted from his gloomy thoughts as  
the remaining Council members climbed up to the summit and greeted  
him by name given to him: "Methos."

The man thus addressed extended out his arms and to the other Council  
Member and clasped him around his forearms.  
They stood locked together for a while, and broken the grip with a  
nod of acknowledgement. "Thoth." "Methos." "Shall we begin?" a  
woman's voice asked, sounding annoyed. "Sekhmet," Thoth said a  
warning note in his voice, his dark hair thinning around his scalp.  
Sekhmet either pretending to be oblivious of the implied warning,  
ignored him, and casually reached up to remove the lion-headed mask  
that she wore in honor of her adopted namesake. With the mask removed  
her face was revealed; narrow chiseled features, black hair swept up  
in, its ebony strands marred only by a silver slash that drooped down  
over her dark eyes. She turned the mask over in her hands; the  
fingers tapered and colored with a blood red lacquer. She alternated  
her fixed stare between the two men watching her, and the mask and  
then dropped it to the ground. "A bit much, wouldn't you agree?"

"We have had to put up with your theatrics, woman, in the council  
sessions. Now, that all members have agreed that the Gou'ald  
represent a threat to our civilization, it may be far too late to  
finally take action," Thoth replied.

"Thoth, dear boy," Sekhmet purred, "Do not tell me that you suspect a  
spy on the Immortal Council?"

"Not a spy, just someone too afraid of his own shadow," Methos  
interrupted. "You said yourself that we may be acting too late to  
affect any meaningful change.

"I concur with you brother, Thoth. We are all resolved to accomplish  
this, then I for one, say let us get on with it!"

The moon just emerging from behind the clouds showed a luminous face  
at a half full, the bright spill of light on the rocks and sparse  
shrub brush clinging to the mountain's stony skin. Approaching the  
rock wall, Sekhmet reached out a hand and thrust aside the clinging  
shrubbery, swearing under her breath as a thorn pierced her  
skin. Yanking with more force than was strictly necessary, she  
activated the hidden lever and a stone door swung ponderously open.  
Entering the hidden chamber and allowing the door to slam close up  
just until the point to allow a shaft of moonlight to seep through.  
Torches were lit high up along either wall of the chamber providing  
additional illumination Sekhmet went directly to the far wall where  
hundreds of clear glass boxes lay in orderly rows, each one  
containing the body of the their people. "Are you certain this is  
only course of action?" she tossed over her shoulder at Thoth. "If it  
is not, it's far too late to back out now."

Thoth nodded, and rummaged in the pouch slung around his waist,  
removing another smaller cloth bag which contained an incense stick,  
and a pouch of the lighter.

The stone streaked with the same colors streaking the dawn sky. From  
another pouch he removed something remarkably similar to a cameo  
brooch carved with a triple-pronged image surmounting a slender tree  
trunk. "The trefoil."

"Three of us, three points on the trefoil," Sekhmet murmured. "It  
makes sense." With that she strode forward farther along the plateau  
of the mountain not deigning to glance over her shoulder to see if  
the men would follow her, or if they were at all put out that she had  
taken the investigative. She needn't have  
worried, they were right behind her, almost treading on her heels.  
She nodded and proceeded to encode the final glyphs into the console  
embedded into the metal surface, its raised face warm to the touch, a  
dull throb filling the chamber like the beat of her heart activating  
the cryogenic system and praying to a higher deity that she did not  
believe in, that this would save their people from the Gou'ald, or  
worse from oblivion.

Scene 2  
Denver, Colorado present day

The iris of the Gate cycled open like the many-lidded eye of an  
enormous sea-going whale, along with the electronic hum of metal  
circuitry and technology seamlessly working in harmony might as well  
have served as its own counterpoint.

The arrival of the SG-1 team was announced by the ring of technicians  
arranged in a loose semi-circle in the center of the enormous room  
that had at one timeserved as an Army Air Force hanger bay. The first  
object through and down the ramp trundled the metal probe that  
appeared to be nothing more than a slightly squat television screen  
mounted on wheels. It rolled it way down and came to a halt directly  
in front of General Hammond.

"Welcome, home." General Hammond, his uniform spotless and pressed,  
and anyone who did not know him well would think that this was always  
the case. He turned his body slightly, the tension he had been  
bottling up showing in the lines of his torso. With a nod of his  
head, he glanced at the technician responsible for matching up the  
chevrons sigils carved into the Gate's overhead arches.

"Good to be back, Sir." Colonel Jack O'Neil saluted his commanding  
officer while with a determined stride he descended the ramp, keeping  
one eye on Teal'C and his reluctant prisoner.

The prisoner's skin was as pale as the underbelly of a dead fish, so  
that it was almost ivory. "Not surprising after spending hundreds of  
years literally frozen in time" Major Samantha Carter thought to  
herself.. The prisoner's mouth was wide and twisted in a permanent  
sneer, as if he thought quite well of himself.  
His eyes were blue and he wore his dark hair to almost shoulder  
length.

"Who is that?" Hammond demanded wagging a thumb at the black-haired  
man lagging behind the others, his wrists crossed in front of him and  
encircled with metal restraints.

"Calls himself Methos, Sir." Major Samantha Carter shook her head;  
her blue eyes narrowed at darted daggers at the man they had found  
huddled inside a hidden cave. Tilting her blond head to one side, she  
mulled recent events over for a  
few seconds, raking her gaze over the slender form of the strange  
man. They had gone on the mission and things have run almost  
according to standard operating procedure.

"A mystery for another time," Hammond said. "Get everyone cleaned up,  
and then I want you all to meet in the Conference Room for a mission  
debriefing ASAP," Hammond ordered.

"Acknowledged, Sir," O'Neil said.

Scene 3  
Later

"All right, people, let's get started," Hammond began once every  
convened in the conference chamber and took their accustomed places.  
Hammond stood at the head of the table beside the plasma screen  
computer monitor mounted onto the wall, hanging in the only available  
space was a star chart, red lines connecting all  
the bright points of light that indicated star systems and planets  
already documented by the various SGC teams. Blue lights showed areas  
that had yet to be explored and encoded in the bases databases as  
viable dial-up locations that could be safely reached through their  
local Star Gate.

"All but one of the stasis units were in operation," she added aloud.  
'Odd enough in itself but it bothered her no end that after several  
enturies how this one man had managed to survive when all the others  
of his race perished.' 

"One thing I don't understand if it that cryogenic chamber was a  
Gou'ald project, and why abandon everything else but leave that one  
area untouched?" Doctor Daniel  
Jackson added.

"You'd think the guls would just stay with what's worked for  
centuries, those Sarcophaguses. It's not their usual modus  
operandi, " O'Neil said. "In fact, I'm getting to the point where I'm  
used to it by now. Any departure from the norm  
makes me nervous."

"We arrived at the designated coordinates exactly on schedule."  
Carter began. "The place had been abandoned and did not appear to be  
a recent evacuation."

"Any signs of a struggle, or some other natural disaster?" Hammond  
asked.

"I couldnt say for sure," Carter replied. "It appeared the planet  
had suffered from centuries of naturally occurring disasters; such as  
floods, earthquakes. I detected a history of seismic activity.  
"I'm not sure what period of time or type of civilization that would  
have taken place, but it was not any time in the recent past," Daniel  
Jackson added.

"We found this pottery shard with the symbol of a trefoil carved onto  
it. I haven't had the opportunity to do any carbon dating on the  
pottery shard that incorporated elements of Egyptian mythology. The  
barbed trefoil."

"It's similar to the symbol adopted by the medical field, the symbol  
of Mercury, except snakes wrapped around the center. So, what have  
got here?" O'Neil asked.

"I lied," Methos whispered.

"About what," Hammond sighed. "My name isn't really Methos, it's  
Thoth."

"Why pretend to be someone else?" Jackson asked, puzzled by the man's  
reaction to the presence of the trefoil. He racked his memory for  
where he came across the name Thoth before. "In Egyptian mythology  
Thoth was minor god with the head of an ibis bird.  
"I'm no expert, but wasn't he credited for inventing the spoken and  
written language," Carter asked.

Daniel nodded in, staring at the stranger. "He was the scribe of the  
god and patron of all scribes. As lord of the books he was the royal  
astronomer, mathematician, and keeper of all knowledge. Rather  
arrogant of some folks to name their kid after him."

"It was easier." he shrugged, and swallowed a sip of water from the  
glass sitting in front of him.

Daniel Jackson shifted in his seat, wondering where he heard the name  
Methos trying to put the puzzle pieces together so it would form into  
a complete picture. He hard the name in connection with several  
archeological digs and scholarly essays that had been published  
almost immediately after the  
a team of  
scientists and professors from both the United States and Germany had  
uncovered the alien artifact fact in Egypt. Admittedly it was before  
his time, sometime during the 1940's and he would not even have been  
involved in the project if not for being contacted for his expertise  
in translating Egyptian glyphs.

While he hated to admit that there were times when even he was  
stumped when confronted with a mystery or obscure glyph that he  
couldn't translate himself with his knowledge and research material  
available to him. He had often had to contact an associate at the  
Museum of Egyptian Antiquities in Upper Pacific Coast, a fellow by  
the name of Adam Pierson. He had been out of touch lately with  
friends and colleagues in the academic world for some time now. He  
worried the bits and pieces, mentally shuffling them around as he  
would a real jigsaw puzzle, until they formed themselves into a  
cohesive whole, when it clicked.

He remembered that Adam Pierson's latest project had something to do  
involving a chronicle of a fellow called Methos. " What are the odds  
that they're one and the same person." The idea of a Watchers  
Council, I don't know if like the Illuminati, or some of governing  
body to maintain a checks and balance system like the government has,  
all the same, it's an intriguing idea." Daniel thought  
to himself, when he felt a sharp jab in his side as Major Carter  
nudged to bring his wandering attention back on the task at hand.  
"A few more things on the agenda," Hammond added. "There's something  
else I want your team to investigate further."

"You are aware that after Hathor's short investiture here, the  
Gou'ald have gained access to some of our more vulnerable military  
intelligence. As a result other System Lords have used that knowledge  
to infiltrate our base, and managed to integrate themselves into  
human society here on Earth."

"I'm going with you," the stranger burst out, his breath catching in  
his throat. In the back of his mind, he wondered if this supposed  
Gou'ald was whom he suspected it was, and if so, if he would  
recognize him. "I told everyone I was Methos, and for it while it was  
fun to pretend. The real Methos left us long ago came to this world  
called Earth. He was the one who helped to uncover the Stargate  
present on this world. Not me. What will happen to me when they  
discover that I am an imposter? All those centuries, alone, with no  
one to talk to.

It was far better to pretend to be someone I'm not, then just be  
plain old Thoth."

"Absolutely not," General Hammond began, folding his arm across his  
chest.

Teal'C shifted his intent gaze from one speaker to the other,  
concentrating and absorb what was being said. Trained from a very  
younger age to stoically ignore any discomforts of extreme heat or  
cold, or aches of the body, he dismissed the buzzing that began at  
the base of his skull and slowly wrapped its way around his head much  
like a snake wrapping its coils around its prey. He squirmed in his  
seat, wondering if anyone noticed his restlessness.

No one did.

A quick spasm of pain crossed his features. He wrinkled his brow, the  
gold sigil tattooed into his forehead which made the lines crease  
even deeper. He leaned back in his chair, the fingers of both hands  
clasped in front of him. Another spasm took hold of his body,  
stronger than the last. Teal'c felt sweat drip down his back and with  
a slow, lethargic feeling Teal'C slid from his seat to the floor. The  
last conscious thought he had before succumbing to the blackness  
was: "I should have dodged that last energy blast."

O'Neil contacted Dr. Frasier via the base intercom system, "Dr. we've  
got a medical emergency, Teal's 's collapsed. We're sending him over  
right away." Her voice slightly muffled by the intercom  
static, "Understood. I'll be expecting you."

Scene 4

Dr. Janet Fraiser almost vaulted herself out of her desk chair, as  
Teal'C was wheeled into the medical ward on a metal gurney it's wheel  
squealing on the metal floor every time it turned a corner. She  
glided over, issuing orders to the nurses and medical assistants, to  
make her patient comfortable on the examining table. He pulse was  
racing, and he was unconscious. Teal'C was not a small man, and his  
long legs dangled over the far edge. With a stethoscope in hand, and  
his medical chart in the other, she ran it over him, shouting out  
orders to the nurses to bring the file on his unique physiology up on  
one of the nearby computer monitors. He was a Jaffa, with almost  
identical systems and vital stats to those of a human from Earth,  
except for the presence of the symbiote.

"What happened?" she demanded of the room in general.  
"He collapsed during the post mission briefing," O'Neil replied,  
trying to find an out-of the way spot to observe the proceedings  
without actually getting in the way.

"A quarter CC of tetrachloride, and administer it at the base of his  
neck, that might bring him around, or at the least stabilize his  
neural system."

The nurse did as she was told, and the hiss of air escaping from the  
pneumatic device sounds loud and jarring in the hush of the examining  
room. "I don't understand, The symbiote is supposed to be heal any  
injury, compensate for almost any attack on his central nervous  
system or immune system,"

"Dr. Frasier," the nurse said, her voice breaking, "He's beginning to  
flat line!"

"What the hell!" Fraiser yelled. "We had him stabilized, what's  
causing it?"

"He's dying," Fraiser whispered, her head drooping. "Are there isn't  
a damn thing I can do about it."

"Snap out of it!" O'Neil shouted, gliding over so he was standing  
beside her,

"You're a doctor, damn it! Think of something!" He grasped her by her  
shoulders and nearly shaking her until the teeth rattled in her head.

"Okay, okay," she managed to get out. "Let me go and stop shaking me.  
The only thing I can think of is to perform an operation to remove  
the symbiote…."

"Wait a minute, that will kill him as surely as the pain from the  
injuries he's already sustained! Carter shouted.

"I know it's radical, but it might be his only chance. Whatever we  
did this time it having a negative affect on the both the host and  
the symbiotic. It's as if they're no longer compatible…"

"You're saying both the host and the symbiont are fighting for  
control of his body?" Carter asked, remembering when she too had been  
in a similar situation.

"We should ask what he thinks of all this," she said aloud. "He's  
unconscious, and I don't think I can bring him around long enough for  
us to ask if he wants the symbiote removed," Fraiser  
snapped. "Ordinarily, I wouldn't even consider suggesting such a  
thing, but under the circumstances I believe we don't have a choice."

"Agreed," Carter said. I don't have to like it, but you're right. It  
is the only way."

"I will not let a member of my team die on my watch!" Docotor Fraiser  
said, and set her jaw, bending down to run a whole battery of tests  
in a flurry of motion.

"It's agreed then, that we're going through with this? Good. Then I  
want everyone to clear out of here," she added, waving her arms in a  
shooing motion.

"Go, go…"

"We'll wait outside," O'Neil agreed, backing out of the room, yanking  
Daniel by the arm followed by Major Carter. They got as far as the  
hallway and O'Neill began pacing up and down its length. "What the  
hell was I thinking when I agreed to this?" he muttered under his  
breath. The other two just watched, and privately wondered what would  
happen to their friend now.

Making certain that they wouldn't come back in to the emergency room,  
Doctor Fraiser went over to the sink and began rinsing her hands with  
soap and water, issuing instructions over her shoulder to the aides,  
to begin doing the same and providing the patient with anesthesia.  
With that done, she went through the procedure of checking that her  
surgical instruments, lying a silver metal row on the equipment tray,  
were completely sterile. Satisfied that they were. she donned a pair  
of blue surgical scrubs and a white mask to cover the lower half of  
her face. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. The  
preparations were in place and the stage was set, there was nothing  
for it now than to plunge right in. The aide had removed Teal'c's  
jacket and shirt, to expose his muscled chest, the bronze almost  
honey colored skin seemingly lacking its usual healthy sheen.

"Anesthesia administered," she asked the technician

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Scalpel." Accepting the instrument from the nurse's outstretched  
palm, Dr. Frasier brought the scalpel level with his stomach and  
began to slide the cutting edge of the blade in parallel arcs from  
left to right making shallow incisions along the body's natural  
lines, careful not hit bone or draw blood.

That was inevitable, as parallel streaks of blood began leaking from  
the incisions, The aide stepped forward to dab at them with a sponge,  
with another aide standing by with the requisite three pints of blood  
in case he patient should need a transfusion.  
The incision completed she motioned for the instrument to extract the  
symbiont.

Instrument in hand, she inserted into his stomach, alternating her  
the focus of her concentration from the computer's x-ray screen,  
where she could see it displayed, and contrasting that with what she  
saw with her own senses, careful to distinguish between the parasitic  
gul wrapped around his stomach's interior and his actual internal  
organs. In the back of her mind she realized that could arguably be  
considered one of the most delicate operations she had ever  
performed. She probed deeper feeling the symbiotic resist, and squirm  
unpleasantly. She wrapped the instrument around the parasite, making  
sure it would come free when she pulled it out.

Janet kept going, pushing aside things like fatigue, worry, and  
nerves, settling into the familiar routine of an emergency operation.  
Ignoring the sweat that run an in unpleasantly warm trickled down her  
back and made her brown hair plaster to her face.

Once she had it all, she slowly backed out along the path she had  
already created and removed the symbiotic. With A curt nod, she  
indicated that the nurse place the symbiont in the glass jar prepared  
to receive it, the ambiotic fluid silvery in the dim lighting of the  
emergency room.

Heaving a sigh of relief that Teal'c's vital signs were still  
registering, she motioned for the surgical needle and thread and  
began with pain-stabbing delicate motions to sew up and knit together  
his skin where she had made her incisions.

Scene 5  
Afterwards

Four hours later the nurse straightened up and then went over to the  
sink to watch her hands. That task accomplished she glided over to  
the door, and opened a crack, just long enough to stick her head out  
and tell the members of the Sg-1 team that they could come inside  
again. "How is he?" O'Neil demanded, squeezing past her. "Best you  
see for yourself, Sir."

Teal'C sat up on the operating table, his vision blurry and a vague  
tingling spreading throughout his body. It was an odd sensation. One  
he had never felt before. For a moment there it was as if his  
consciousness were leaving the flesh and blood vessel of his body,  
while it went off to explore another realm, but with an almost  
audible yank it was brought back. "Did I have a near-death  
experience? He thought to himself. "Where am I?" he asked, staring  
around the room, seeing people's faces swim in and out of his  
consciousness.

"You collapsed, then blacked out. The disorientation and dizziness  
you're experiencing right now, is normal after a lengthy surgery."

"Surgery?"

"The injuries you sustained during the mission were extensive," Dr.  
Frasier replied. "In order to stave off the spread of the infection,  
and because the symbiont and your system fighting each other, I had  
to remove the symbiont."

Daniel paused to gather his thoughts, taking a deep breath he  
said: "What I don't understand how he could be dying of a simple  
energy blasts from one of the Jaffa's energy spears."

"You should understand, Daniel. I've lost count of how many times  
you've gone through the Gou'ald rejuvenating Sarcophaguses," Jack  
replied.

"I'm not certain what just happened here." Dr. Fraiser straightened  
up from where she had been scanning the information scrolling across  
her computer screen. She whirled around, clipboard in hand with the  
matching charts of known physiological traits of both the Jaffa' and  
the Gou'ald. She had been with the SG command long enough to be aware  
that although humans and the different races that they come across on  
the planets either inhabited or enslaved by the parasitic aliens, the  
Gou'ald; they were existed some very real fundamental differences in  
the genetic makeup of Teal'C's people. The fact remained that he had  
managed for years to keep his own personality intact, even although  
the symbiote was still present and aware inside of him. Up until now,  
it had been pretty much a given that he could not survive for long if  
the symbiotic were removed from his body. He had a very difficult  
decision to make and it wouldn't be easy for him to accept it either.

"True, but the gul that Teal'C has, excuse me, had, worked in a  
similar manner," Daniel said.

"General," O"Neil said, speaking into his com-badge, "You had better  
get in here, Sir. This is something you have to see with your own  
eyes. I've seen it, and I'm not sure I believe it."

"What is it, Colonel?"

"You'll see when you get here."

"He's dead, but he's not dead," Jackson said, once Hammond had  
arrived.

"Let's pretend," Hammond said, raising a hand to stem the tide of  
arguments,"that I'm following all of this. Are you saying that Teal'C  
died upon removal of the gul?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Sir," Dr. Frasier nodded.

"He looks very much alive to me," Hammond replied, turning to address  
the patient lying in the bed of the military convalescent ward of the  
base. "How do you feel, son?"

"The host is supposed to die after, right?" Jackson asked.

"Right, he did, and he didn't." Dr. Frasier replied, staring at the  
vital signs that fluctuated wildly.

"I died, Doctor," Teal'C murmured, sitting up straight in the bed. "I  
do not understand, ONeil. How can I still be alive when I am dead?".

"Neither do I," she muttered.

"I might be able to help with that. Everyone better make themselves  
comfortable for what I have to say is going to sound rather strange,"  
Methos said, dragging over a folding metal chair stacked by the near  
wall. "This might take a while, and I'm really not sure where to  
begin…"he trailed off.

"All I want to know if Teal'c's fit to return to duty," O'Neil griped.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," Thoth replied.

"This had better be good," O'Neil warned.

"Well, It's like this. I'm not really certain that you'll understand  
Actually, on second thought it be easier to show you. The man who now  
called himself Thoth, turned to Doctor Frasier. "Doctor, might I  
borrow something sharp?"

"Depends on what you want to use it for." handing him a blade with a  
serrated edge. Freshly washed with antiseptic.  
He nodded to her and then rolled up the sleeve of his gray sweatshirt  
so that his bare arm showed all the way to the elbow. Thoth turned  
the blade over in his hands, and then without so much as flinching or  
crying out, he plunged the sharp blade into the skin of his forearm,  
Bright red bubbles of blood sprouted.

Major Carter quickly glanced around trying to find gauze or something  
else appropriate to staunch the bleeding, in the few seconds she took  
her attention off of him, bright blue streak of electricity sprouted  
up along the puckered edges of his skin, to her eyes it was as if  
suddenly the energy patterns generated by static electricity had  
finally become visible spectrum of light and energy seen by the naked  
eye. A few seconds later his wound closed without even so much as  
scar to show it had even been there.

"Care to explain that magic trick?" O'Neil demanded.

"Well, it's, You see, I am a Immortal." Tooth shrugged. "There are  
many like me, some good, some evil, There were more at one time, and  
only a handful remained behind on our world to attempt a last ditch  
attempt to save our civilization from the Gou'ald."

"Were did the others go?" Hammond asked.

"They had already escaped through the Star Gate and arrived on this  
planet."

"There has got to be a catch to this, immortality, from almost all  
the cultural myths and legends from around the world, "Doctor Jackson  
said. "The bottom line is, things are never everything they're  
cracked up to be"

"You're right," Thoth said. "We die, we just don't stay dead. And as  
for Teal'C, I believe that he's what is referred to as a pre-immie.  
Usually, these are people completely unaware o that aspect of their  
nature until they've died' for the first time and revived."

"If they are Immortals present on this planet, which I doubt," O'Neil  
said, "How come no one has ever heard of you before?"

"They have, It's not like we'd be out to shout our presence from  
every rooftop.There's a secret society called The Watchers who  
observe and record, to chronicle the lives of Immortals." It's part  
of a Cosmic Game, where each Immortal has to go around and challenge  
each other to a fight to the death."

"And what does the winner get?" Hammond asked, heaving a sigh,  
obviously after thousands of years in cryogenic sleep, his sanity had  
gone with it.

"When the dust settles at the Endgame, the last one standing will  
have the accumulated knowledge and power of every Immortal who ever  
lived;" Thoth shrugged, "Enough to rule the world."

"I've had it!" All I want to know if he's fit to return to duty an go  
on the mission," O'Neil demanded, out of patience, and began tapping  
his left foot on the metal floor. In the back of his mind, he thought  
with some disgust, I might have to take along the annoying fellow,  
Methos, after all. While I'm happy that Teal'C no longer has to have  
that nasty parasite worm inside his belly, it had its advantages.  
He's had it so long, and until we ran into him on the planet once  
ruled by Apothosis, it was part of TealC's identity as one of the  
Jaffas.

Now it's not there anymore. Teal'C's s a strong man, solid,  
dependable. I'm glad he survived the operation. Never been one for  
going under the knife, and I'm glad he's alive. It is just my  
imagination but does he look smaller now, diminished somehow?" He  
shook his head, and began tapping his right as the feeling in his  
feet started going numb. He was jolted out of his rambling thoughts  
when Dr. Frazier tapped on his shoulder and repeated what he had said  
the first time, only louder, thinking it hadn't registered, and it  
hadn't.

"Yes and No. By all rights he should not even up and around. I've  
seen people come back to life on the operating table. As much as  
we've learned about the guls, I'd say yes. No, because he nearly flat  
lined shortly after I extracted the symbiont."

"I hate to be a worrywart, but how is this one of teammate is an  
Immortal going to go over with the brass?" O'Neil asked, then rubbed  
the corners of his eyes with the back of his hands, trying to soothe  
away a lingering headache.

"The last thing we need is Colonel Maybourne jumping at shadows, and  
then once he finally puts two and two together…"

"He'll end up with four squared to tenth power to find excuses to  
make trouble for us. Then he will likely go running off with  
everything he knows to whisper into the wrong ears, and pull the  
wrong strings" Major Carter added.

"Let me worry about that, Major," Hammond said. "Our priority right  
now is making defusing this situation with a possible Gul is  
residence in the upper Pacific Northwest."

"What if the gul who's hiding out at this safe house is really  
Methos," O'Neill sneaked a sidelong glance at Thoth, "A 5,000 year  
old man from another planet who came to this world along other  
members of his race in pursuit of what?"

"I wish I could answer that for you, Colonel" Thoth replied. "I wish  
I really were Methos, but the only person who can answer that  
question is Methos, and I think you already know where you can find  
him."

Scene 6

The next evening

Teal'C shook his head, the lines in his brow growing ever deeper. It  
had only been a matter of a few days since he had been separated from  
the symbiont. Much to his surprise and the shock of his team-mates  
and colleagues, not only was he still very much alive, but the  
injuries he had sustained from the power surge on that side of the  
Gate of the planet were gone, as weere the scars from the surgery to  
remove the symbiont nothing more than a memory. Teal'C took his  
attention off what the others were saying about this supposed scholar  
who could interpret more obscure Egyptian and Sumerian hieroglyphics,  
and reached to rub at the short hairs at the back of his neck,  
wondering why they were standing on end, and he was suddenly  
developing a headache that sounded much like the scrapping of  
filament insect wings rubbing together; running from the soles of his  
feet then all the way up his body to end at the base of his skull. It  
was irritating.

He glanced into the floor to ceiling window of the house the team had  
identified as the residence of one Adam Pierson, a senior research  
associate with a local museum specializing in ancient Egyptian and  
Sumerian artifacts.

Daniel Jackson was walking and expounding on a theory he had on the  
trefoil glyphs which caused him to trip over his own feet. Major  
Carter was there to help him regain his balance. Flanking them,  
Colonel Jack O'Neil stared fixedly at the gravel pathway underneath  
the soles of his boots, occasionally glancing at Thoth who was  
dressed in a spare gray jumpsuit and a blue sweatshirt .

It was the best they could do at a moment's notice, being unable to  
find anything else more suitable among the base's discards and  
laundering services. Thoth didn't seem to mind, although Teal'C  
wasn't sure which was worse, the fact that the man's conviction that  
he was 5,000 years old, and originated from the abandoned alien  
planet they had discovered only a few days before, or the fact that  
he was utterly convinced that they had to find Adam Pierson, in order  
to solve the mystery of the glyph on the ancient pottery shard with  
the barbed trefoil carved onto its surface.

At this point Teal'C did not much care what they did with the  
trefoil, smash it into a million pieces, or wrap it up in industrial  
packaging and ship it off to some Egyptian Antiquities Museum where  
it would be studied; forgotten among the dust of centuries. Teal'C  
felt his forehead with a free hand, where the gold sigil tattoo was  
still etched into his skin. At one time it had represented his rank  
among the elite of the alien Gou'ald First System Lord, Apothosis.

Teal'C had once had served as one the elite bodyguards, the Jaffa;  
now it was merely a reminder that he no longer was a servant of the  
parasitic aliens, and was his own man. Now he stood alongside other  
soldiers in the battle to defeat the Gou'ald's expansion of conquest  
throughout the universe.

Through layers of fabric he could still feel, just barely, the scar  
of the surgery, as Doctor Janet Fraiser prepped him for surgery, the  
nurses professionaly and unobtrusively stand by ready to hand  
operating instruments and dose him with medicines as instructed. He  
had been under the knife for hours, but it had felt even longer while  
he been out cold. The scar was about as long as the gul that had  
taken over at its host. He thought back, and wondered if he had been  
such a good idea to keep the container holding the dead alien's  
corpse.

O'Neill approached the front door of the rambler, and wrapped his  
hand around the wooden knocker carved to resemble a lion's head. He  
rapped it a couple of times and then tried the doorbell.

"Daniel, are you sure this is where Adam Pierson lives?"

"I'm sure."

Scene 7 Encounter  
Methos rose from his chair to answer the insistent ringing of the  
doorbell muttering a curse in several languages as somehow of the  
black liquid of his coffee sloshed over the rim of the can and onto  
his clothes. He opened the door to find four people standing on his  
front porch. . Twisting around on cat quick feet, trying to remember  
in a fuzzy not enough caffeine sort of way, where he had stashed his  
sword. You'd think another Immortal would have the chutzpah to wait  
until I've had my morning coffee before making a nuisance of  
him/herself  
Methos thought with some disgust, the tell-tale "Buzz" of another  
Immortal presence causing the short dark hairs on the back of his  
neck to stand up. He gave his surroundings a 360-degree inspection,  
and was irritated to note that his senses read not one but two  
presence's, one much like his one, and one that was relative  
newborn. "What the hell do you want?" Methos growled.

"You Adam Pierson? O'Neill asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"Who wants to know?" Methos replied.

"Not very hospitable is he?" O'Neill remarked to no one in  
particular. "All right, "I'm Colonel Jack O'Neil, we're with a  
special branch of the United States Air force, and it's our  
understanding that you're something of a expert in translating  
ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics."

"Okay, you've alternately flattered, insulted, and intrigued me,"  
Methos replied, taking a few steps backwards, and processing all this  
through his mind. As he did so, O'Neill and his buddies seemed to  
take as tacit invitation to enter his house. "Ah, the living room's  
right over there.

"Thank you," Carter replied, smiling.

Once every one had taken a seat on the circular black leather couch  
in his living room Methos sat down. "I'd over you coffee, but I'm  
fresh out."

"Don't worry this won't take long," O'Neill replied. "Allow me to  
introduce everyone here, "Major Samantha Carter, Doctor Daniel  
Jackson, and Teal'C, and I believe you already know him. Calls  
himself Thoth." he rattled off the round of introductions all in one  
breath.

"Don't you recognize me?" the other said, stepping forward into the  
full illumination of the fluorescent lights, until it etched his high  
narrow cheekbones, showed his dark eyes and hair, and the narrow  
mouth, its full lips pressed together with determination. "I'm  
Thoth," the other announced without the formality Methos was  
accustomed to when encountering other Immortals.

Methos had been drinking heavily in the last couple of days, and two  
and two refused to add up to four. After a moment it clicked, this  
was Thoth.  
"The coward," Methos thought to himself, even Kronos wouldn't want  
anything to do with him. And what does he think he's doing trying  
to pass himself off as me?"

"Have you ever heard of doppelgangers?" one of the strangers asked.  
Daniel Jackson perked up, and scanned through the compartments in his  
head for the obscure reference of the supernatural being. Admittedly  
his specialty lay more along the lines of Egyptian Mythology, but he  
knew he had heard of such creatures before. "It's from German  
language and literally means double-goer, and as such falls into the  
wide category of spirit double."

"Daniel," O'Neill whispered, glancing at him over his shoulder.

"Sighting a doppelganger is often considered a death omen, but it  
isn't definite," Daniel continued on, ignoring both the warning note  
and look in the older man's eyes. "The most entertaining version of  
doppelgangers has to do with a belief surrounding mirrors and the  
spirit world. Sometimes what you see in the mirror is not just your  
own reflection; but a window into the realm of spirit, so what you  
see is actually your doppelganger looking back at you."

"He's not me. He's an impostor," Methos insisted, staring with  
sneering contempt at the man with the shoulder length brown hair and  
light blue eyes. "I don't know why you think you're me, because I've  
been me longer than you have."

"Nice, so that's why vampires have no reflection," Carter said,  
humoring him.

"As soulless creatures, they have no duplicate in the realm of the  
spirit."

"All well and good, so long as my doppelganger decides to stay on its  
side of the glass," Methos said, folding his arms across his  
chest. "This is all very entertaining, and even informative, but what  
do you really want?" he demanded.

"I'm sure you'll recognize this," Jackson said, rummaging around in  
the pockets of his jacket and coming out with a pottery shard carved  
with the symbol of the barbed trefoil.

"So, that you could have come from just any museum from anywhere in  
the world. I should know," Methos replied, lounging back in his  
chair, deceptively at ease and trying not to show that recognized the  
symbol. Admittedly, it was rather common in usage in the field of  
botany. And in use in the field of chemical, especially as warning  
labels on dangerous chemicals indicating biohazards. Although his  
memory of the last five thousand years was murky at best, he knew  
where and when he first saw that symbo. He glared at Thoth, Damn  
you Why couldn't you leave well enough alone he thought to himself.  
Aloud he said, "Why the hell are you mixed up with the military?"

Thoth curled into himself trying to burrow deeper in the deep seat  
cushions of the black leather couch, trying to avoid making eye  
contact with Methos.

"It's a long story," O'Neil replied. "I'm given to understand that it  
has something to with an alien race of Immortals." He shrugged. "I,  
however, have my doubts about their supposed ability to live forever.  
That is not possible."

"You already know about Immortals? How did that happen?" Methos  
gasped.

"I told them," Thoth whispered. "Do you remember the Star Gate?"  
Methos let his assumed façade of unconcern and confidence ooze away  
like blood from a wound, then jolted to his feet. His narrow mouth  
twisted into a grimace, his teeth bared, he sprang forward, hoisting  
Thoth into the air, holding onto him by the lapel of his sweat shirt,  
he began shaking the smaller man repeatedly until the teeth rattled  
in his head. "Why did you tell them! That's not in the Rules! Damn it  
all to hell!" Speaking of which, Hell, I could count on the finger of  
one hand the sum total of people I trust about being Immortal, and  
YOU! YOU, go and tell the whole friggin United States Military? Do  
you have any idea what you've done! Do you!"

"UHH, UHH," Thoth responded, unable to utter anything more coherent  
from the breath cut off, and the repeated shaking.  
"Let him go," Teal'C evenly said, gliding forward and stepping in  
between the two men.

"What Rules?" Carter asked, intrigued in spite of herself." From your  
reaction and obvious emphasis, they are important enough to risk this  
kind of public outburst."

"I don't owe any of you an explanation," Methos muttered under his  
breath, collapsing back into his chair.

"I think you do," Thoth whispered. "We do not have to fight," the  
other began, a sickeningly sweet smile spreading across his face. "We  
can lay down our swords and reach a mutually beneficial  
understanding."

"You gotta be kidding me." Methos sneered. "That isn't the way it's  
done, and we both know it." Methos stared into the other man's eyes  
and is expression changed from disbelief to one of surprise. He  
twisted around on the soles of his feet and without saying anything  
and no warning given, punched the other man right in the face.

"Typical," Thoth replied, standing up and rubbing his sore jaw. "When  
in doubt, resort to violence or run away. Methos, after all these  
years, I suppose it's no wonder that you would revert to form."

"Don't even go there," Methos whispered under his breath. After five  
thousand years of existence as an Immortal one thing the he was  
certain of, "I am the real Methos" not this sorry wannabe poser," he  
muttered to himself under his breath. His memory of the last 5,000  
years, admittedly, was a bit hazy; he couldn't even remember his  
first death'. "I remember seeing Thoth before, and learning about  
the Stargate's discovery during the late 1940's and how it was  
unearthed at the Valley of the Kings in Egypt. But how does that have  
anything to do with some obscure branch of the United States Air  
Force. It doesn't add up."

"Let's say," Methos began, smiling, baring his teeth again. "For the  
sake of argument, that you're right. Live, learn, fight and grow  
stronger, and live to fight another day, that's my Philosophy."

"Indeed," Thoth smiled, "Might I have the opportunity to convince you  
to adopt another one?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Methos snapped.

"Maybe we should leave the room," Carter whispered in an aside to  
Colonel O'Neill.

Scene 8 Conclusion  
"Methos, trust me on this. All those countless centuries of fighting  
to death, of taking each other heads for some mystical a potentially  
unobtainable prize.

"Where have you been, brother," Methos said, sneering, "I can't  
believe a coward like you could have lasted 5,000 years. Let alone 5  
years. Be that as it may, you've got my attention."

"I've been in cryogenic sleep on the old Immortal homeworld," Thoth  
replied, and while my body was frozen, my mind was very much aware,  
and I've had time to think"

"Pardon me, while I heave up my guts," Methos interrupted. "Frozen in  
time? Literally? Do you expect me to believe that?"

"No, but it's true," Thoth replied. He gulped and swallowed another  
sip of water, the corners around his eyes beginning to twitch back  
and forth showing his inner tension.

"The Immortals were experiments created by the Gou'ald, they had to  
battle each other, until the last one standing would become one of  
the System Lords," Thoth replied, ignoring the other's outburst.

"Experiments?" O'Neill echoed, startled enough that he lost his grip  
on his coffee and the black liquid splattered over the front of his  
uniform.

"I would not put anything past my former slave-masters," Teal'C said.

"And what do you expect me to do about it?" Methos demanded.

"Well, they already know about us, so what could it hurt to give the  
path of a peace a try?" Thoth said.

"Because you told them!" Methos shouted.

"Well, yes," Thoth blushed. "I had to, and part of the truth seemed  
to me better than a complete lie. Who knows I may be the first  
Immortal to completely fess up when push came to shove."

"Damn it all to hell and gone! Do you have any idea of how manage  
trouble you've caused?" Methos cursed in several languages and began  
pacing around the circumference of his living room.

"I have a solution," Carter said.

"What might that be?" Methos glared at her, and despite the turbulent  
emotions, and the potential damage control he would have to do, he  
found her rather attractive, even if she did wear her blond hair very  
short, almost sweeping around her ears. "Well, you two aren't the  
only Immortals around, right? In that case, between the two of you,  
you've ten thousand years of experience and I'm sure that's more than  
enough to teach Teal'c here everything he needs to know about being  
Immortal."

"Oh," Methos stopped in his tracks. "I'd forgotten all about the  
newbie. Turning to Thoth, "Tell me, this was all part of your plan.  
That you did this  
deliberately."

"Yes, and No," Thoth replied.

"I hate taking on students," Methos snapped, but I feel like a worm  
on a hook"

He shook his shoulders, loosening the kinks in his muscles, "All  
right, exactly what do you do again at this Star Gate project?"

"We protect the planet from aliens," O'Neill replied.

"Oh sure," Methos replied.

"I'm serious," O'Neill replied.

"And you want me to join up with your little crusade in protecting  
the planet while showing the newbie Immortal here, the ropes," Methos  
stated.

"That's about the size of it," Carter smiled.

"Maybe after 5,000 years I'm finally going senile," Methos groaned  
and collapsed back into his seat. "Okay, I'll do it."

"Honestly, I didn't believe that you would agree so readily,  
brother," Thoth said.

"Bully for you," Methos whispered.


	2. Old Dogs, New Tricks

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 is the property of Gekko and MGM Studios, as are all related characters, concepts, and events. They are the property of their respective creators and producers, and do not belong to me. No money is made off of this, and they are used only for entertainment purposes. They will be returned intact, when I am done with them. The same goes for the characters and concepts of Highlander: the Series. They belong to Rysher Television, Gauamont, Panzer/Davis Productions.  
  
Note: takes place shortly after where "The Lost Ones" left off, again with a good interval taken into account, featuring Methos and Thoth. Written in response to a story challenge found on the SG-1 Heliopolis fanfiction Archive, # 129 by Kristine.  
  
"Old Dogs, New Tricks" by Karen  
  
Prelude  
  
Methos resented the scratchy feel of the blindfold that covered his eyes.  
The fact that his hands were securely tied did not do much for his confidence or comfort in the already cramped passenger compartment. While he appreciated the need for security measures as much as the next person, this was going a bit far.  
  
The uncomfortable seat in the standard issue military helicopter was not designed for comfort but for function. Methos recalled riding in many different types of conveyances, but someone had obviously cut a few corners before letting this particular 'whirly-bird out of research and development. Every time the pilot hit a thermal of air currents the thing rattled around like peas in a rain barrel. Methos gritted his teeth and tried to ignore his fellow Immortal, Thoth, who sat beside him, although he couldn't see him, he could still smell that the rough trip did not agree with Thoth. Methos could smell the other's sweat, and his lips formed into a small feral smile, and settled back to enjoy the rest of the trip.  
  
They left the Pacific Northwest for some undisclosed destination in Colorado Rockie, giving just enough time to pack a few personal belongings. 'Not much' Methos thought. He had wrapped the carrying straps of his duffel bag around his right leg. Through the cloth he felt slightly more reassured by the feel of his sword wrapped in clothing and packing material.  
  
Methos' bound hands twitched, and he felt an overwhelming urge to rip off the blindfold and get a good look around at where they were taking him. Then he would demand an explanation.  
  
Just then the pilot took a steep dive, turned the nose of the helicopter to a sharp westerly turn and descended a hundred feet straight down. He sucked in a deep lungful of cold air and braced himself against the hard leather back of his seat. Methos cursed in several different languages, some of them as dead to modern usage, promising that he would have some choice words for the Colonel and his buddies when they got back on the ground. ** Later  
  
Colonel O'Neil watched his passengers and wondered if not for the first time what he was getting himself into. It had all sounded pretty good when they were going into the deal. Although he did not want to admit to anyone else, he was still have a difficult time wrapping his mind around the fact that Immortals existed, let alone that his long time team member, Teal'C was one of the them.  
  
O'Neil unobtrusively tried to gauge the reactions of the two Immortals, Thoth and Methos. If someone had asked him who was the senior of the pair, just by appearance he would have said Thoth, hands down. The man's dark brown hair was thinning on top thick around the ears and narrowing to a widow's peak at the dome of his thin-lipped narrow face. Methos, or Adam Pierson as he said he preferred to be called; as cool and collected as a cucumber; blindfolded, hands tied. He wore his dark hair combed and swept back behind his ears. His clothes were pressed to within an inch of their wearability; and he swore under his breath like a sailor forced to prowl the docks for months while their ship was repaired. O'Neil, no stranger to colorful language could only understand above five words in ten, and he had been listening very carefully to both the spoken and unspoken verbal cues throughout the entire trip.  
  
Just by looking at Adam/Methos he appeared to be between the ages of early twenties or late thirties and about as harmless and bookish as Doctor Daniel Jackson had been when he had initially been invited to participate in the SG Command Project.  
  
In the back of his mind he realized just how far Daniel had come from the starry-eyed idealistic youthful Egyptian anthropologist to the man he was now. As he did so he glanced over at other passengers and came to the realization that everyone involved in the project from its initial discovery back in the 40's to its present day incarnation, that it had made a personal discovery of sorts for all of them. 'Just look at Teal'c at one time he had even been on the side of the enemy, one of the elite soldier guards of the Goua'ld. They all had personal and professional reasons for wanting not just the planet earth but all other subjugated and conquered worlds free of the guls control. When the project began I was a washed-up has-been, on a self-imposed retirement and trying to drown my sorrows in a bottle of beer because I'd lost my son and I felt like my life was going nowhere, now I've got a new lease on life. God, Jack, just listen to yourself, you're beginning to sound like the facilitators at a new age self help group. But it's true, isn't it? Note to self Now what do I tell Hammond about these two, scratch that, make it three, Teal'c is free of the parasite gul and he's Immortal like Methos and Thoth. Great, just great',. O'Neil mused as the helicopter took a steep dive and he caught a breathtaking but rather alarming view of the brick red and brown sides of the Colorado Rockies; the farthest peaks lightly dusted with a coating of snow.  
  
"We're here," Carter announced as she unbuckled her seatbelt and stood up to untie Methos' bound hands and removed the blindfold, thankfully not ripping it away in one swift motion because that cause the fabric to rub across the skin. "Sorry about the rough treatment," she added. "You do understand it's only to make sure all security measures are observed."  
  
"Sure, I understand," Methos replied once he could see again, resisting the urge to rub his face where he hadn't bothered to shave a five o'clock shadow of facial hair.  
  
In the meantime, Thoth squirmed in his seat and wondered what he would do if Methos decided at some later date to take his frustration out on him.  
  
*** Later  
  
"Welcome back," Hammond greeted, standing up from the chair in front of his desk and walking towards the small group standing in his office. "I see everyone made it back in one piece."  
  
"Yeah, all the kids are back from the field trip, safe and sound," Jack quipped.  
  
"Is he always like this?" Thoth asked, puzzled at the mocking, but friendly interchange between subordinates and their commanding officer.  
  
"Pretty much," Jackson replied. "It's a given by now, if he didn't do it, we'd start to wonder if there was something wrong with him. Besides, it helps to know that one's superiors have a sense of humor."  
  
Thoth blinked a few times in succession, unaware of the exchange of amused glances. And finally he decided that he wasn't meant to understand banter between military officers.  
  
"I'll expect your report on my desk by tomorrow morning," Hammond added, ignoring the exchange of glances and raised eyebrows, his attention focused on the man they'd brought back with them, Adam Pierson. 'Interesting fellow, rather harmless looking if one went by surface impressions, but according to Thoth this man was not only an expert in translating Egyptian hieroglyphics, but also had expertise in other fields as well. The only difference that separated him from any other scientist was the look in the dark eyes, cold and calculating. Hammond realized that Thoth had not been yanking their chain when he told them at Adam Pierson was also the 5,000 year old Immortal known as Methos. In the back of his mind Hammond felt a shiver run up and down his spine trying to imagine all the history and events that this man had seen pass by in that span of centuries. "I couldn't stand it,' he thought to himself, giving his head a small shake. Aloud, he announced. "All right, that should do it for now, go get cleaned up and meet back in the conference room at 01100 hours." **** Later  
  
The conference room turned out to be a long narrow room its walls covered with charts and graph, a metal rectangular table positioned squarely in the center. In addition to General Hammond seated at the head of the table, other military officers had preceded their arrival and had taken seats along the sides.  
  
"If you'll take your seats, we will get started," Hammond said as members of the SG-1 team entered the room, Methos and Thoth in their wake.  
  
"Nice of you to wait for us. I suppose you left the light on too?" O'Neil quipped, ignoring the narrowing of General Hammond's eyes, while both men knew and respected the other's penchant for indulging into an occasional verbal exchange of banter, there were situations and times when O'Neil went too far, and it tended to get on each other's nerves.  
  
"I'm sure the rest of you are familiar with Major Rathbone, but for our two newest arrivals, I'll open with a round of introductions, " Hammond began, indicating with a quick nod that he wanted the man to distribute around the table a sheaf of documents and charts to those seated around the table.  
  
"He's joined us from the team placed in charge of collating reports from the probe recently through the gate."  
  
"That reminds me," Colonel O'Neil added, shuffling through his pockets to come up with the pottery shard with the symbol of the trefoil etched onto its surface,  
  
"We brought this to the man Daniel said was an expert in translating obscure Egyptian hieroglyphics, and we brought this guy back with us, using the fragment to wave it Methos's general direction. "His name is Adam Pierson, and with your approval we've brought him aboard. He knows enough to be able to decipher it; there's more to him than meets the eye, but I'll go into more detail in my report, Sir."  
  
"I get the feeling that it will make for some very interesting reading," Hammond replied, recalling the not so subtle hints that Thoth had dropped prior to the team's departure for the Pacific Northwest. "Has been cleared by Doctor Fraiser?"  
  
"Not yet," Jackson replied.  
  
"Don't I get a say in this?" Methos griped, feeling a rather peevish urge to sweep his hand across the table and bring the charts to the floor in an untidy mess.  
  
"You never were very good at playing by anyone else's rules, except your own," Thoth remarked," cocking his head to one side, thinking something through," Honestly, that was something I always admired about you. You'd think someone that's been around as long as you have would have learned more patience."  
  
Methos felt at shouting at the holier-than-thou fool; promising himself that he'd find a time to kill him just for that, if not just to take his fellow Immortal's head for his Quickening, but wondering if it'd be worth the effort.  
  
"All right, people," Hammond began, trying to smooth things over," Settle down, w still have a lot of ground to cover before we get into the details of the new mission and not a lot of time to do it."  
  
Methos nodded and slouched back in his seat.  
  
"Then let's get started," Hammond said, turning to Major Rathbone who stood up, and then went over to where a screen had been set up next to an overhead projector.  
  
"Thank you," Rathbone began, his Adam's apple quavering when he spoke, "If you'll refer to the charts in front of you the probe we sent through the gate three weeks ago just relayed some rather unusual and conflicting data on the environment of the planet PCX 1183."  
  
Major Carter glanced at the color-coded graphics on her chart and then matched it up with the lit display screen chart. "If I'm reading this correctly, it appears that probe says the planet is composed of at least four distinct biomes all within a days' hike of each other. I'm no expert on topology or climate, but even our own planet, that doesn't add up."  
  
"You would be correct, Major," Rathbone said, as he scanned the mission notes that the member of the SG-3 team had complied and downloaded from the probes' initial findings. "They think the planet was used as a research and development facility for the Gou'ald. It's within the realm of possibility that the Guls attempted to terraform the planet and use it as a harvest or relocation facility for civilizations they conquered."  
  
"So what happened?" Methos interrupted, his interest in the mission and its purpose rising.  
  
"We already know that they set up a global weather grid in the planet's atmosphere, using satellites" Carter replied.  
  
"It broke down," Teal'C added.  
  
Carter nodded. "That's a pretty good guess, but the grid is working only in certain areas so each time it the system encounters a glitch it tells the mainframe computer to create a variety of environments: tundra, rainforest, desert.." You get the idea."  
  
"If the system did break down," O'Neil asked, "Let's say for the sake of argument that it did, if we can find it and get it running again, should we?"  
  
"It might be a technology that can't be used given our current level of technological sophistication, but by all means, if you run across a global climate control system, bring it back," Hammond replied.  
  
"We're assuming that the conclusions gathered by the probe and by the SG-3 team are the correct ones," Teal'C said.  
  
"Well, 'it's not like the guls to leave technology lying around after they've been to a place, run roughshod over it and leave," Jackson added.  
  
"That's what you're being sent to find out," Hammond replied.  
  
** "Have Dr. Fraiser give Mr. Pierson a physical, then we can be sure he's cleared to go on the mission. One thing I want to make very clear, Mr. Pierson, Mr. Thoth is that you're going along as civilian advisors. Leave the decisions up to the officers. Am I understood?" Hammond said.  
  
"Understood," Thoth replied.  
  
Methos shrugged, "Whatever you say."  
  
"Crystal," O'Neil replied, saluting.  
  
"Dismissed," Hammond said. "Major, once you're done, meet us in the Gate Room."  
  
"Yes, Sir," Carter replied, saluting as well. ***** Later  
  
Major Samantha Carter led the way down the featureless but spacious metal hallways of the military base with Methos trailing along in her wake.  
  
He could not recall the last time he had set foot in such a facility, and admittedly he powers of recall were blurred by both time and a good quantity of alcohol, but it looked clean, efficient and solid. He had been through the mandatory Q & A session with the brass, and he had to admit he was beginning to like both General Hammond and Colonel O'Neil, after he had engaged in a shouting match at the treatment he had received so far. Methos wondered what he would be forced to undergo now, when they came to a door marked Medical Bay. Methos immediately back-pedaled and had just completed a 180 degree turn when he realized that he hadn't felt the "Buzz' that signaled the presence of another Immortal, cursing himself and wondering at the same time why he didn't feel it. By the time he collected himself, he had already bumped into the other man, and looked up into the intent dark eyes. Methos was not a small man, but the other stood at eye level with him and outweighed him by at least twenty pounds and it appeared to be all muscle. "Teal'c, isn't it? Damn it to all hells, man," Methos shouted, " Don't sneak up on me like that."  
  
The other man nodded and in deep bass rumble said: "I will try and remember. The doctor is waiting for you. Do not worry. This is a routine medical examination. You have nothing to worry about."  
  
Methos tore his gaze away and glared at the both of his escorts, "Speak for yourself. How come Thoth isn't down here going through the same thing?"  
  
"He already has," a woman's voice answered, from the vicinity of a bank of computer monitors, clipboard in hand. "Come in, I'll be with you in a moment. I just have to finish inputing the data gathered from SG-3's mission, so if you'll have a seat."  
  
Methos ambled in, figuring if he was going to be here for the duration, he might as well make the most of it. Maybe he could find some way to get out of this. He wasn't worried so much about them finding something wrong, as he was about them finding something to right, if that didn't sound completely insane. Thoth had already opened his big yap and told the folks in charge about the existence of Immortals, so that was blown to all hells, what more could they do to him? He agreed to join this crazy out fit of his own free will, so maybe this really was a routine exam, SOP and all that jazz. Shaking his head to clear it of the inevitable cobwebs, 'Stop it, Old Man, you're getting nowhere fast." He thought, giving himself a mental kick.  
  
"Now what?" Methos asked the doctor aloud, grabbing a nearby metal folding chair and straddling it like he would a horse.  
  
"You must be Adam Pierson," the female doctor greeted, moving forward with a clipboard in hand and a ballpoint pen in the breast pocket of her starched white lab coat. "Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Doctor Janet Fraiser; welcome the SG Command Facility. If you'd fill out these forms and hand them back to the nurse at the desk, I'll be right with you to complete the required medical examination."  
  
"Yeah," Methos muttered, his voice dripping sarcasm, but palming the forms anyway. He glanced down at the entry blanks and twirled the attached pen in between his fingers. "Damn, I hate these things, and began with drawing big circles on the sheet and just signed 'Pierson, Adam ' age 28, Seacouver, Washington, along with a bogus address and no telephone number. With that done, he got up from the metal chair and slapped the clipboard down on the nurse's desk.  
  
The nurse, an attractive redhead, glared at him, but did not comment. She merely filed the forms in a nearby drawer and handed over a packet of standard issue gowns, with instructions to go over and change in the bathroom, leaving his own clothes hanging from the hook bolted to the inside of the door.  
  
** Methos changed into the gown and jumped up on the exam table his long legs dangling over the edge and the soles of his stocking feet thumping a tuneless rhythm on the floor while he waited for the doctor. In the back of his mind he figured this seemed just a routine medical checkup, and it was far less effort on his part to play along rather than cause a stir and protest it, if he did, it would give to rise to suspicion and besides Thoth had already given more details on Immortals than the would strictly healthy for everyone involved.  
  
Dr. Fraiser came back, a stethoscope dangling from one hand, "Please stop fidgeting, I swear you're worse than Cassandra when she first arrived here. Not please, sit still."  
  
"Who's Cassandra?"  
  
"Don't worry. You'll get a chance to meet everyone. It's a big base, but once you get used to it, everyone pretty much knows everyone else."  
  
"I feel so much better," he muttered under his breath.  
  
"Aren't you a little young to be so cynical?" Janet asked, checking his pulse, hearing, and heartbeat, all steady and within normal for healthy adult male of his age and weight. With a small signal she indicated that she wanted the nurse to bring over the black fabric cuff and wrapped it around his left forearm to check his blood pressure.  
  
"Tell me if it's too tight," she added. When he didn't respond she wound it tighter and squeezed the far end and read the read out. 120 over 80. Very good, but from his non-verbal and nonverbal responses and the things he left unsaid, the small hairs at the back of her scalp were rising in response. For one thing, he was too damn healthy, much like Teal'C. Thoth on the other hand, that man was anxiety on two legs. Something about this situation did not add up. She was a doctor and a logical person; when things did not add up, Janet Fraiser got to the bottom of it or else.  
  
"You have no idea, do you?" he replied, shaking his head. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, in the same mild tone. "Nothing," he muttered.  
  
Irritated, Janet twisted a little harder than she normally would on the blood pressure cuff and handed the device back to the waiting nurse. She turned and went over to the desk where she brought up the medical chart for Thoth, giving her current patient a questioning look, something was going on here, because the charts were very similar. She went back and said, "I can't find anything wrong with you, other than the fact that you're about 90% of the way through a massive hangover. So you're free to go."  
  
"Thanks," Methos replied, hopping down from the exam table and landing on the metal floor, not even feeling the cold through his socks.  
  
"Go change, and leave the gown with the nurse. If I have any further questions for you, I'll be sure to let you or General Hammond know right away."  
  
***** The Gate Room  
  
Much later, the SG-1 team with the addition of Methos and Thoth assembled in the Gate Room, waiting at the threshold of the ramp leading up to the gate. In the background the buzz of static and conversation as the technicians ran through preliminary status reports to make sure they had the green light to open the iris. Methos watched in fascination as the giant circle cycled through its motions, the chevrons flashing by each etched with its unique Egyptian hieroglyphic. He made a mental note to investigate in more detail just what was going on here and where they had discovered this remarkable device. He jumped and lost his train of thought when Major Carter nudged him with an elbow and walked up the ramp and through the gate. The iris opened and they went through a semi-liquid wall and were pulled through the vortex.  
  
****** Elsewhere  
  
"Nice," Jackson said, taking in the breathtaking view of the planet PCX 1183. The team emerged on the other side of the gate, where they were met with a sprawling vista of a green meadow in mid spring. The meadow, a carpet of green grass, to either side stood a good-sized forest of oak, maple, and others less easily identified e at a distance, marching along on either side like sentinels.  
  
"It has a distinct atmosphere," Thoth added, trying to scan to make sure that the planet would support humanoid life.  
  
"Just because we haven't seen any inhabitants that doesn't mean that they're not out there," Jackson waved his hand in a random direction. "Do you think we should split into teams and search?"  
  
"I don't know," O'Neil wavered.  
  
"At the risk of sounding cliched," Thoth began, "Curiousity has done in more than its share of felines in its time; in the interests of safety it might be better to explore in groups."  
  
"That would be cool," Jack mused, "You think we could find someone to fix the system and bring the technology back to base with us. We could use for field training simulations."  
  
"Is he serious?" Thoth whispered in an undertone to Major Carter.  
  
Sam shrugged her shoulders and grimaced, the lines of her face deepening. "With him. I can honestly say, your guess is as good as mine."  
  
"Okay, everyone get their laughs in while they can," O'Neil replied. "Assuming we do split up, and I'm not saying we should, that's a lot of territory to cover. No one should go alone."  
  
"Agreed," Carter replied, adjusting the straps of her backpack, settling her weapons in their holster, and that done, she grabbed Doctor Jackson's forearm and marched off in to the south, leaving the other men gaping in astonishment. "Well, I guess that decides at least one of the pairings; so, Thoth you're with me, Teal'C, stay with Pierson, make sure he stays out of trouble."  
  
"Understood," Teal'C replied.  
  
"I do not need a babysitter, I can take care of myself," Methos insisted."  
  
Colonel O'Neil whirled around and leveled a withering glare at Methos; "Maybe you weren't paying attention during the briefing. On this mission and, god forbid, any future ones you may have the misfortune of being assigned to my team, I'm in charge and the decisions are up to me, got that?"  
  
"Got it," Methos replied.  
  
"Good, let's go," O'Neil replied, marching off to the north with Thoth walking at twice his normal speed to keep up with the furious stride of the Colonel. ***  
  
Meanwhile  
  
"Is something wrong?" Teal'C inquired, noting the preoccupied look on his companion's face. He waited a few minutes to give the other a chance to form a response and after ten minutes of nothing, he sidled crab-wise a few inches closer wondering whether or not Methos heard the question. His brow furrowed making the gold sigil's lines deepen even more.  
  
Methos ignored him and kept walking, ignoring the sand and grit that got into his eyes, coated his face and covered every inch of his body.  
  
Knowing himself and his friends as he did, Teal'C could safely say he was not a curious man or even an imaginative one; he did have a sense of humor. He was still trying to understand when Colonel O'Neil was being serious and when he was been sarcastic, but that wasn't the point. Methos was an enigma wrapped in a riddle. Because of the other Immortal, Thoth; the SG Command had now learned of the existence of Immortals. Teal'C, in the midst of coming to grips with the fact that he was what they called a 'newbie', missed the sand dune's edge and went sliding down to the bottom. .  
  
Dr. Fraiser had removed his Gul symbiont, and he had survived. That, in itself, was a miracle. Teal'c badly needed Methos to explain what he was supposed to do now as an Immortal. Thoth had mentioned something about the elders teaching the younger the rules, of fighting in some cosmic 'Game, how to survive; and he was intensely eager to learn.  
  
"I hate deserts." He slipped suddenly in a loose patch and went down on one knee, coughing and spluttering as it got into his mouth.  
  
Teal'C nodded, and trudged alongside, not knowing what if any to reply to that comment so he felt it wiser not to say anything. He felt inclined to help his companion up, but also felt instinctively that Methos was not the type to ask for help or appreciate it when it was given. ***** Flashback Sudan circa 1941  
  
A roaring filled the soldier's ears, mingled in with the shouts of the commanding officers shouting conflicting orders at the scattered semicircle of troops scattered over the compound. A wind kicked up that seemingly came from every direction imaginable making the sand-colored tarps secured with ropes over the tanks, flap like caged birds. Methos would have been secretly amused at the sight if he had not been so concerned with preserving his own skin. He could feel the grit of sand, dirt and small stones even through the tough gray green uniform he wore. If there was one thing about having to be stationed in the desert, he'd learned to be conserving of everything, including water, and to keep his face covered whenever the harsh climate decided to reassert it presence over the puny humans who had dared to venture into its domain. Methos wondered, not for the first time what had induced him to enlist in the United States army, this conflict between the Allied troops and the German Axis and their allies was an exercise in insanity. Here they were, hunkered down by their tents and tanks with the wind at any given second threatening to overturn the tanks. Once they were down, they would resemble giant tortoises like those he'd seen once on another island with climate just as warm but far more inviting, cursing his commanding officer, who had earned the nickname "Desert Fox. Rommell had earned that nickname after winning several consecutive victories over the Al-Lamein. Methos, if he'd been in a better mood would have had several choice words over the decision to set up camp in this god-forsaken place, but he just was not in the mood, when he heard some of his fellow soldiers yelling at each other.  
  
"I think it's letting up," an enlisted man shouted to be heard over the din.  
  
"You gotta be kidding me!" someone else shouted back.  
  
"Men! You were told sandstorms were part of the deal when he volunteered for this detail, so quit yer bellyachin!" a drill sergeant yelled.  
  
Methos curled into a tight ball underneath the tarp he'd ripped off a nearby tank and wrapped around his lanky frame several times not only for protection against the stinging sand and wind, but also for warmth, wished he were somewhere, anywhere else in the world right at this instant.  
  
end flashback  
  
*** Present day, somewhere on planet PCX 1183  
  
"Do you know where you're going?" Thoth asked, more out of a need to break the cloying silence than out of a desire to know their whereabouts.  
  
"No, and for the last time stop asking!" O'Neil snapped. "Do you know what I want?" he added, the leaves and undergrowth of the forest crunching underneath his boot soles. Jack had lost track of the sun's position because the surrounding trees topmost branches blocked the sunlight and they had passed into a glade of black oaks and beeches.  
  
"No," Thoth replied. He let out a groan; "I have more blisters on one foot than I can ever remember."  
  
"Was that before or after your people put you on ice for 5,000 years?"  
  
"Before," Thoth replied.  
  
"Did anyone ever tell you that you take things very literal?"  
  
"No," Thoth replied, "But I haven't really been in social situations of late."  
  
"Who made the decision to put you into cryogenic sleep?"  
  
"The Council of Elders."  
  
"Politicians?"  
  
"Yes," Thoth nodded.  
  
"I hate politicians," O'Neill muttered under his breath. "Other than finding a way out of this damn forest, I want grilled cheese and a dill pickle on the side. I want to find the other members of my team and go home. That is what I want, but we can't always everything we want, so just shut up."  
  
"Shutting up, Sir," Thoth couldn't resist adding, and then subside into silent marching.  
  
*** Elsewhere  
  
"Sam," Daniel whispered, huddled in a corner of the cave, his knees drawn up in front of him. "Would you think any less of me, if I told you being in a tight places wigs me out.  
  
"Daniel, relax. It's claustrophobia; we've all had it from time to time. Just breathe, concentrate on that and it will get better," Sam advised, squirming around on the hard dirt floor of the cave, her backpack and gear strewn around her.  
  
"Easy for you to say," Daniel muttered under his breath, his breaths coming in big gulps every ten seconds, and panic setting in. "This isn't a very big cave, what if we use all the air before the others find us? What if we can't get back to the Star Gate? What if..."  
  
"Daniel, snap out of it!" she finally snapped, "There's no use in playing what if games with yourself, it's counterproductive and it only exhausts more quickly than you would otherwise. Don't make come over there an slap some sense into you, alright?"  
  
Daniel blinked and began laughing, a hysterical edge to it.  
  
Sam watched him rock back and forth for a few heart-stopping minute, with his knees drawn up to his chest, giving out low moaning sounds much like a wounded animal. She felt for him, but wondered if it would do more harm than good to go and slap him across the face. She wrestled with the decision and made a move to get up and go over to him her teammate. Cursing herself and the situation, Sam got up in one swift motion and made her way over to where he sat, his back up against the opposite wall of the cave. He looked up at her, his blue eyes glazed and slightly dilated. She stood over him; her right hand raised with the palm open, and gave a light smack on the cheeks. He gave her a puzzled, hurt look and finally raised his hand to wipe away the tears and sweat that coated his face. "I guess you really had to slap some sense into me after all," he whispered, uncurling from his prone position and standing up to grasp his water bottle, offering her the first sip, which she took, and than gulping down some as well. "You're absolutely certain that they will find us and we'll get outta here?"  
  
"Look on the bright side," Sam replied, relieved that he'd recovered so quickly. "We've been in worst situations than this, and we've always made it home."  
  
"All right," Daniel replied, a little stronger this time, "Point taken. So we will just sit tight and wait for the others to find us?"  
  
"Actually," Sam replied, "We could try and backtrack our route and wait for everyone to meet up at the gate location's. They might try and make it back there."  
  
"We could do that," Daniel whispered and then he fell asleep.  
  
"Or not," Sam muttered, figuring she best stay awake and on watch in case of danger, but her eyes closed and she fell asleep.  
  
Meanwhile  
  
O'Neil and Thoth were slogging through a forest pool, backpacks carried above their heads in order to prevent their gear and sensitive equipment from getting drenched. Thoth regretted ever volunteering to come on the mission and just for a second he wished that Methos would try and make for his head,' flashed through his mind, "That way, I'll be dead and out of this misery,' he thought. Just then, he realized that the sky was getting lighter in the east. They burst through the final barricade of trees to emerge into bright sunlight, blinking to adjust their eyes. That was when they realized they were back where they had started and had found the location of the Star gate.  
  
"Damn, Damn, Damn, "O'Neil muttered, pounding on the inert and unresponsive surface of the rock inscribed with silver and gold sigils that was the stargate on this side. "We've lost our way out of this godforsaken planet. "We can't find Daniel, and he's the one who knows all the codes and dial up locations for the planets we're able to reach using the system. And we can't even find the other teams."  
  
"Have we gone past our contact time, if we have they might realize that something's gone wrong and try and get another probe through or a message." Thoth said, trying to be helpful.  
  
"Grab that radio terminal and see if you can raise them, use code Charlie, gate 2x, try Major Carter first. She has the communications equipment and she's with Doctor Jackson."  
  
"Yes, Sir," Thoth replied, taking the terminal and punching in the requested code, tapping it on the surface with a fingernail a few seconds later when all he received was white noise and radio static. "I can not be certain, but whatever the damage to weather technology it's affecting communications as well."  
  
"Try it again," Jack insisted, his teeth grinding together.  
  
"Yes, sir," Thoth snapped, squatting down on the opposite side, as far as he could get without lose his direct line of sight with the angry military officer, punching in random numbers into the communication device.  
  
"Here, give me that,' O'Neil snapped, snatching the device and punching in the code for the others, " This is O'Neil. Echo Charlie X-1, do you copy?" speaking into the receiver, "Report status." Seconds passed while he waited for a response. Nothing. "Great, just great," he sighed and absently stuffed the device into his pocket, taking a seat on the grass. "Hurry up and wait, time is all we've got. Thoth, old boy, might as well get whatever rest we can, It's going to be a long day."  
  
Aftermath  
  
Hammond, hovering at the periphery of the action in the Gate Room, tried to maintain his outward composure amid the flurry of activity and tension. The other teams that had been dispatched through the gate on other missions had all returned on schedule, some intact, some less so. The SG-1 team was now three hours late and with no word on their status. Communication and distance made it impossible to judge if the failure to reach they was due to a time lapse between Earth time and that of the planet PCX 1183. The climate there was less than stable given what they had learned so far. Hammond felt the sweat drip down his back and make his uniform cling to his skin.  
  
Uncomfortable or not; worried or not he knew Colonel O'Neil and his people as more than just colleagues and officers, but as fine people and friends. It wasn't like them to not send word unless something was wrong or they were prevented somehow from doing so. It wasn't like this was a first, but it was a concern. He was on the verge of ordering another search and retrieve mission, moving forward to stand behind Lance Corporal Merrimack, seated at the controls for the Gate's chevrons, when Dr. Janet Frasier ran into the room.  
  
"General," she gasped, trying to speak and get her breath back at the same time. "I've been monitoring the transmissions, and I think we should send a team after SG-1, immediately!"  
  
"Calm down, Doctor," Hammond said. "I was just about to do that when you came in." "In fact, I think you should accompany the team, I've got a gut feeling that whatever predicament that they're in, they will need medical treatment."  
  
"Yes, Sir," she replied.  
  
"Which team are you sending, Sir?" Merrimack asked.  
  
"SG-3."  
  
"I've cleared Major Rathbone and his team," Dr. Fraiser added. "There's nothing wrong with them that a good night's sleep won't fix."  
  
"Agreed," Hammond replied, "Doctor, how long will it take you to gather the emergency medical supplies?"  
  
"Give me ten, twenty minutes at the outside," Janet replied, brushing her auburn hair out of her eyes and settling her shoulders to relieve a kink in the muscles. "I'll go get the supplies right now, that will give Major Rathbone and his team time to suit up and go through the Gate."  
  
"Let's do it," Hammond said, walking over and clapping her lightly on the back. "Relax. We're probably just blowing things out of proportion, knowing the Colonel O'Neil and Major Carter as well we do; once we get there. It's likely we'll find them sitting comfortably somewhere waiting for us to find them."  
  
"And Jack will say something along the lines of 'what took you guys so long,'" Janet muttered under her breath.  
  
"I'm not a betting man, but if I were, that would be a sure thing," Hammond replied.  
  
** Conclusion Elsewhere  
  
Rathbone and the SG-3 with the addition of Dr. Fraiser arrived on the surface of the planet, harried and gasping for breath but focused on finding the members of SG-1. Rathbone immediately ordered a systems check. He then divided his team into groups of two, ordering them to split up, with one taking point and the others rear guard, with the doctor in the middle. He also left the technician at the gate entry to try and diagnose why they had lost two way communications with the others on this side of the Gate.  
  
While he was doing that, Janet took the opportunity to make a 360 degree inspection of the surroundings, noting how much atmospheric disturbance was in the air, how the planet's surface kept shifting underneath her feet and the fine red hairs at the back of her neck stand on end. Although she knew, the planet's biomes were unstable she was unprepared for how constant the shifts were. One moment they were in the middle of mild forest, the next it was freezing cold tundra. She felt the first tiny drops of rain come down and splatter on the too of her head, shivering, but glad for the thermal insulated parka they all wore. Just then, she heard a soft coughing sound come from behind her.  
  
"Weather on this planet is dicey, Doctor, but I think you've discovered that already."  
  
"It's starting to rain," Rathbone muttered. "I hate rain."  
  
"Colonel O'Neil?" Janet asked, a bit startled and surprised that they had located their people so quickly.  
  
"Yeah," O'Neil replied, emerging from the makeshift weather shelter he had built for both himself and Thoth. "Glad you could make it. It's been deadly dull here, and I for one could use a change of scenery, no pun intended."  
  
"Colonel," Rathbone said, stepping forward to shake hands with the other officer, "I must say, I am relieved not only to find you in one piece, but well. Any ideas on which direction to look for Major Carter and Dr. Jackson?"  
  
"Carter and Jackson marched went south. Teal' C and that Pierson fellow went east," O'Neil replied, waving his hand in either direction.  
  
"What are the chances we'll find them before this light drizzle turns into a full-fledged storm," Thoth asked.  
  
"I don't want to speculate," Fraiser said," I want to know."  
  
The technician looked up from the gate controls and with a small salute he said, " Sir, I think I've almost got this figured out, just give me a sec here. I figure, whatever device is causing the planet to constantly shift biomes must run on the same power source as the gate. If it's malfunctioning, it needs to have its batteries recharged."  
  
"So, what you're saying," Rathbone muttered, "Is the storm will actually do us favor, by directing another bolt of lightning, that will reactivate the gate?"  
  
"If that's the case, why could we come through and they couldn't come back?" Janet asked.  
  
"I don't know, and right now I don't care," O'Neil muttered. "I just want to find them. Daniel's the expert on how these blasted things work and all the fancy squiggles you need to enter in order to get a dial-up location, so let's go."  
  
**** Once on the move, they were treated to the full effects on a downpour complete with sporadic thunderclaps in a dark pewter sky. Backpacks filled with gear began getting heavier by the minute, they were grateful for the thermal insulated parkas and gloves.  
  
After hours of into the march, the storm stopped as suddenly as it had begun and they were enveloped in a heat wave accompanied by warm desert winds. Fraiser removed her parka hood and let her face be heated by the wind, even though it was too hot than she would have preferred, at least it was a welcome change. Just then she realized they were on the edge of a desert, dunes reaching as far as the distant horizon. "I hate this planet already," she muttered under her breath, stomping her booted feet on the hard-packed ground, trying to get feeling back in her legs. When she looked up again at the horizon and the endless sand dunes she thought, at first, that fatigue and the weather were playing tricks on her eyes. She saw two; still distant, black moving specks come in their direction, both cloaked and on foot.  
  
Moving towards Major Rathbone, she tapped him on the shoulder. "Sir, look over there. Do you see what I see?" Major Rathbone looked in the direction she pointed and confirmed with a nod that he did. "Maybe our luck is about to change, Doctor. We're sure that this planet is inhabitable, so it must just be our people. He turned on his heel and marched towards the nearest and most accessible sand dune, to stand on top of it and wave his arms in the manner of a farmwife summoning in the barn hens, all the while shouting at the top of his lungs, 'Hallo! Hallo! Over here! Head this way!"  
  
*** Teal'C and Methos struggled up the side of the most recent sand dune, refusing to give up and lie down and die. Teal'c considered himself a practical, someone not, not given to emotive displays or complaints, but this was more than any sane being had to endure. Almost three days now in the company of the 5,000 year old Immortal and he still hadn't learned much more than that they really did exist, they couldn't be killed by any known means, except by removing their head, and that the elders taught the new ones. ('As Colonel O'Neil would no doubt say at this juncture, 'fat lot of good that does me. It has been more than a week and counting since Doctor Fraiser removed the symbiont and I feel no ill effects. Does this mean I am no longer a Jaffa? I ceased to be one in truth the day I realized that Apophsis and the rest of the Gou'ald were not gods and I was no longer obligated to serve them' but now who am I?'), he thought  
  
Aloud he said, "Pierson, do you believe we have seen the last of this desert?"  
  
"How should I know?" the other yelled to be heard over the blowing wind. "I don't even know if we've wandered around in circles. We could be hopelessly lost. I don't know about you, but I don't want to perish on an alien planet in the middle of a bloody desert!"  
  
"I would concur," Teal'C replied with a very straight face.  
  
Methos stared at him and then trudged up the sand dune, to emerge on the top, his duffel bag slipping to the ground unheeded. "I hate this."  
  
"Yes, you mentioned that earlier while we conducted reconnaissance."  
  
"Does nothing ever bother you?" Methos asked.  
  
"It does, "Teal'C replied, but I do not allow it to interfere with my duties."  
  
"Bloody hell," Methos whispered, falling down rather than sitting on the ground. **** "If it would help," Teal'C said, sliding into place and almost losing his balance in the process, a few seconds of arm waving and he completed the slide to the opposite side of the sand dune. From his prone position, he twisted his hand and shouted up at his companion. "As I was saying, we could have waited out the storm, and then tried raising the rest of SG-1."  
  
"Well, why didn't you mention that two days ago?" Methos muttered. He went back to turning himself into a tight ball of misery at the top of the dune. In the back of his mind, he wondered if it were possible to discover who had coined the phrase that 'misery loved company. Once he did, he would track them down and get pleasure of telling them they were dead wrong.' Methos was fatigued and thirsty, but he refused to surrender to the heat and the climate. He promised that he was only resting, that he would get up in a few minutes and keep walking. However, his eyes closed and he fell asleep, forgetting that his companion might have been injured in his fall. Methos tried to stir, but the sun's rays hit right at eye- level and the next he knew he was out cold. Later  
  
That was how they found them, two silent, miserable lumps in the middle of the desert.  
  
"Well, well, look what we found," Rathbone laughed. "Two lost lambs in need of the return to the flock. What do you say, we bring these dregs back with us, hmm?"  
  
"It seems a shame to wake them up," O'Neil replied, arching an eyebrow.  
  
"Oh, for the love of a name," Jackson snapped, "Wake them up and let's get outta here."  
  
Thoth shuffled his feet at the back of the circle of people and felt rather naked and exposed out in the desert, with no idea of how to protect himself and feeling utterly useless on the mission. In the back of his mind, he thought, "Maybe it would be a favor to let Methos kill me." He was jolted out of his morbid thoughts by O'Neil's good-natured if sarcastic laughter.  
  
"Whatever you say, Daniel," Jack laughed.  
  
It was a good thing that Teal'C had suffered no broken bones in his wild descent because he had to endure being poked and prodded by Dr. Fraiser, in order to make certain they had sustained no injuries, and then when she was done, Teal'C got thumped on the back by Colonel O'Neil, and a hug by Major Carter, who only stepped aside to allow Doctor Jackson to gingerly exchanged a forearm clasp with him.  
  
"Are you all right?" Carter asked.  
  
"I am fine, Major," Teal'C replied.  
  
"You'll forgive me for saying this, but you do not look 'fine, in fact you look terrible," Jackson added.  
  
"I assure you, that is not case, despite my recent ordeals and my current appearance. I feel remarkably well."  
  
While this was going on, Methos slid down the dune and landed in the sand, muttering in a language that much like Sumerian to Daniel, but he decided not to comment on it and concentrate on making sure everyone was all right and get back to Earth.  
  
*** "Once we get back to the base, I want all of you, yes all of you," she insisted, "to report to Medical Lab as soon as you've reported to General Hammond. I want to run full medical scans and blood work on all of you. I'll make it an order if I have to."  
  
Methos looked at the doctor and found himself with a steady bright blue stare that left no room for argument. "Okay, okay, I'll do it. Gee, I feel sorry for the rest of your patients."  
  
"For as long as you've been around, Methos," Thoth chuckled, "I think you've still got a lot to learn about doctors in the military."  
  
"Shut up," Methos snapped, unable to come up with anything else that sounded more witty or stinging at the moment.  
  
*** Later  
  
"But we still haven't discovered where the guls kept the technology to make the biomes change at an accelerated rate. We still haven't accomplished our mission," Carter said.  
  
"Sam," Jackson interrupted, "I really do not care about the technology, I want away from here, the sooner the better."  
  
"I understand, Daniel," Sam began, but stopped when she felt Jack's hand cover her mouth. "Major, you've been through a lot, so let's say we did and forget about it."  
  
"Yes, Sir," she replied.  
  
"You know I've got to say it," O'Neil said, a grin widening his mouth. "'There's no place like home, and I was fed up with this blasted planet forty eight hours ago."  
  
"Home is sounding better and better to me too," Daniel added.  
  
"Is it working now," Rathbone asked the technician.  
  
"As well as it ever did," he replied.  
  
"That's good enough for me," Rathbone said, "I find it highly unlikely that we'll ever need to come back here again."  
  
"You'll get no arguments from me," Jackson seconded.  
  
***** 


End file.
